


Oops, I Love You

by RockSaltAndRoll



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, New Beginnings, Pregnancy, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltAndRoll/pseuds/RockSaltAndRoll
Summary: Chloe thought she was set for life: a good job, a house, a car, and the world's best husband...until a surprise pregnancy brought it all crashing down.When every day seems harder than the last, Chloe wonders if she made the right choice to give up everything and move;  but with help from some old friends, a new neighbour, and a French Bulldog, Chloe tries to rebuild her life in a new city at thirty, single, and pregnant.





	1. SUMMER

The dates just had to be wrong. The numbers didn’t add up.

If truth be told, it was the smells that alerted Chloe to it first. Hospitals always had that certain smell; of antiseptic and industrial strength Domestos and that slight tinge of despair and fear. It was always there and she’d grown used to it through all the years of working in a hospital environment but that morning, Chloe had smelled it again. It was somehow sharper and far more nauseating than she’d remembered, causing her to stop and lean heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

One foot inside the medical research lab and the smell of ethanol had sent her running to the bathroom as the nausea rose up again and she tasted bile at the back of her throat.

Stomach finally a little happier, Chloe chose a corner seat by the small window in the staff room and flipped through the pages in her diary once more, counting the days but again there was a discrepancy. It had been seventeen whole days since she should have started her period and that just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t possibly have taken her over two weeks to notice because Chloe was never late; her body clock ran precisely on time and had done since the very first one. It just couldn’t possibly be right.

“What’s up, my friend?” asked Melinda as she breezed into the staff room with two cups of tea filled up to the brim; black hair piled haphazardly on her head and her thick-rimmed glasses balancing precariously on her nose.

Chloe jumped slightly, having been lost in thought. Closing her diary with a snap, she turned to her friend.

“I’m late.”

Melinda frowned as she placed one of the cups on the coffee table in front of Chloe and sat down, cradling the other in both hands.

“No you’re not,” she replied. “You’re perfectly on time as always. Shift doesn’t even start for another twenty minutes.”

Chloe shook her head.

“No, I mean I’m _late_.”

She gave her friend a meaningful look as she waved her diary gently in the air. It Melinda a couple of seconds to connect the dots, brown eyes widening as she finally understood.

“Oh…” Melinda murmured. “Oh! Well…that’s…”

“A terrifying prospect,” Chloe finished for her.

Melinda bit her lip; tapping her fingernails on the side of her cup.

“It could be anything you know,” she mused. “There are lots of reasons to be late.”

“Yeah,” Chloe replied as she picked up her cup of tea; noticing that Melinda had made it in Chloe’s favourite mug with the picture of a fat pink unicorn sliding down a rainbow.

“It could be stress,” Melinda suggested. “Or anaemia.”

“Or,” said Chloe with a sigh, “it could actually be that I’m pregnant.”

Melinda made a face; her forehead wrinkling dramatically..

“Here I was trying to come up with clever reasons and you just jump in with the obvious.”

“Sorry,” muttered Chloe.

She stared into her cup, eyes focussing and unfocussing on the milky tea inside.

Her mind was racing away, already having dismissed every alternate reason for a late period and settling on the most possible. As improbable as it was that she was pregnant, it did seem to be the most likely reason. Birth control wasn’t exactly 100% accurate after all.

“Have you got a test?” Melinda asked; breaking into Chloe’s reverie.

She shook her head.

“No,” replied Chloe. “It only just occurred to me when I got to work that my dates didn’t add up.”

Melinda hummed into her tea as she took a thoughtful sip.

Chloe had known Melinda for several years now; her closest friend at work and the person she’d spent many a night with drinking prosecco and eating sushi whilst watching Grey’s Anatomy and sobbing into their soy sauce. Melinda was about as good a pal as a girl could get.

“You should take a test.”

“Spelling?” Chloe replied, dryly. “Numeracy?”

“Pregnancy,” Melinda confirmed.

“No kidding.”

Her friend calmly blinked over the rim of a mug that looked remarkably like a measuring beaker.

“It’s a shame we don’t keep them in the medical research lab,” Melinda mused. “Biopsied kidney tissue hasn’t really much use for them. Maybe the obstetrics ward would give you one?”

Chloe frowned.

“I wouldn’t use a hospital test,” she said, firmly.

“Then nip down to the pharmacy on your lunch break,” insisted Melinda. “I think you need to do it today. Find out for sure if you are or aren’t, so you won’t be stewing over it for the rest of the day.”

Chloe’s eyebrows arched upwards.

“Instead I can spend the rest of the day stewing over being pregnant!”

“That’s the spirit,” Melinda replied brightly.

 

As much as her job took up pretty much all of her concentration, Chloe couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to those seventeen missed days weighing her diary down. Despite the agonising wait, lunch break rolled around far quicker than Chloe expected and she found herself heading off the ward and down to the hospital pharmacy with her purse weighing down her lab coat pocket.

The queue for the pharmacy was long and Chloe thumbed the pen in her pocket, clicking the bottom repeatedly as she waited for her turn; anything to take her mind off why she was there. The pharmacy was just as clinical as the rest of the hospital; the lights too bright and the walls painted that same eggshell off-white colour. At least it didn’t smell quite as antiseptic in here as it did in the rest of the hospital.

Eventually, Chloe reached the front and took a deep breath before placing her items on the counter: a packet of Hall’s Soothers and a pregnancy test. She really didn’t know why she’d picked up the throat sweets. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to distract the pharmacy assistant’s attention away from the large box of two branded pregnancy tests, which was stupid now that Chloe thought about it. The hospital pharmacy assistants had to have scanned through thousands of pregnancy tests, even those bought by hospital staff. She wished that she’d left her lab coat upstairs so it wasn’t so glaringly obvious that she worked there, but even if she had there was still the bright lanyard that hung around her neck, announcing her name and her position to the whole world.

The pharmacy assistant was an older woman who reminded Chloe of her own mother – blonde hair, neatly bobbed to her chin and eyes that didn’t even look at her purchases as they were scanned through and deposited into the waiting paper bag.

“Fifteen pounds, forty-eight please, love.”

Head down, Chloe passed over the crisp twenty pound note from her purse and mumbled a ‘thanks’ as the pharmacy assistant handed Chloe her change and purchases with a cheerful farewell. Chloe really couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Stuffing the bag into her overloaded pocket, she caught the lift back up to her floor and hurried along the corridor with the pregnancy tests sitting heavy in her lab coat. Keying in the door code, she practically ran past the staff room where Melinda was waiting for her with more tea, and quickly shut herself in the staff toilet.

Ripping off the cellophane wrapper and digging her finger into the lid, Chloe ripped the box open and pulled out one of the unassuming white sticks along with the instruction leaflet. Her fingers shook as she read the instructions through, and then once again before picking up the stick and pulling off the bright blue cap. This was it – moment of truth time, and Chloe didn’t really even have the desire to pee. It took almost a full minute to even produce a thin trickle; squatting at the most awkward and undignified angle so that it was directed towards the absorbent end of the stick and not anywhere else.

With the worst over Chloe flushed, washed her hands, and sat down on the toilet to wait for the result. She was staring so hard at the test stick that she jumped almost a mile when somebody hammered on the door.

“CHLOE!”

It was only Melinda, but Chloe’s heart still pounded in her chest with panic.

“Give me a minute,” she called back; her voice shaky.

“Hurry up,” whined Melinda from the other side of the door.

“It takes a minute, Mel!” Chloe replied in frustration as she reached over to the sink and picked the stick up again.

She shook it twice and looked at it again.

“Oh bugger,” Chloe murmured.

Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the bathroom door and opened it to find Melinda standing on the other side with an expectant look on her face.

“So, what’s the result?”

Chloe looked down at the stick again. The result hadn’t changed since she’d picked it up a minute ago.

“Pregative.”

Melinda’s dark eyebrows shot up.

“Okay,” she replied slowly.

Chloe nodded. Pregnant: it was there on that little white stick for all to see; a smiley face mocking her. She really didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Cup of tea?” asked Melinda; her voice quiet.

Chloe made a face.

“Got any vodka?”

Her friend snorted.

“If I had vodka with me in the hospital then we’d really have problems.”

“Good point,” replied Chloe.

 

Chloe allowed Melinda to guide her into one of the staff room’s low chairs with the scratchy brown wool seat covers, and gratefully accepted her cup of tea. It was almost cold enough to swallow in a single gulp, but she didn’t even care and her sandwich went largely uneaten as she mulled her situation over with Melinda over the next half hour.

Chloe was thirty years old and very happy with the way her life was up until that point. She had married Scott five years ago and he was possibly the sweetest, most supportive man in the world. He’d been there for her through everything; from getting her degree to making sure she had proper food and enough sleep whenever she had to work nightshift; to holding a Viking funeral for her pet rat Zippy when he eventually died of old age. Scott was the kind of husband who surprised her with spontaneous trips and thoughtful gifts.

They had never really talked about having children. Honestly, Chloe thought they were both far too busy having fun to even think about it. They both had good jobs and disposable income so they could take off at almost any time and do almost anything they wanted. Chloe liked not having to think about anyone but herself. The lack of responsibility for another human being was dizzying.

“What are you going to do?” asked Melinda, quietly cutting into Chloe’s thoughts.

Chloe tapped her lilac-painted fingernail on the side of her fat pink unicorn mug and took a deep breath.

“No idea,” she replied.

Chloe really wished that she did.

 

****

 

“Happy Friday!” Scott cheered as she walked through the front door; brandishing two plates full of Chinese food and a hundred watt smile.

“Yay!” replied Chloe as enthusiastically as she could manage.

She had spent the rest of her work day in a bit of a daze, going through the well practiced experiment protocol on autopilot as she tried to process the fact that she was definitely pregnant. Chloe had even taken the second pregnancy test after two more cups of tea and had seen the same blue smiley face staring at her from the little white stick. Chloe hated that smiley face. Sure, it was warm and inviting for somebody who had planned to be pregnant; somebody who had waited that sixty agonising seconds and prayed for that smiley face to appear but for somebody like Chloe...well, it was just condescending. Ha ha, you’re pregnant, loser!

Oblivious to Chloe’s predicament, her husband set both plates on the low coffee table by the sofa and grinned at her before heading back into the kitchen.

“How was your day?” he called.

Sighing, Chloe set down her bag and shrugged off her cardigan, placing them both down by the side of the couch where the pregnancy test was in easy reach. She still had no idea how to do this. Scott seemed so bubbly and happy that she wished she could put it off, but she knew it was impossible; within five minutes he’d be able to tell there was something weighing on her mind.

“Er...yeah, it was okay,” Chloe replied. “Long, but okay.”

Scott reappeared seconds later with a cold bottle of Pinot Grigio and two wine glasses; beaming at her as she sat down.

“Poor darling,” he said. “Don’t you worry; I’ve got you sorted. Just sit down, relax, and enjoy your dinner. I got your favourite wine, and we can put our feet up and binge-watch the entirety of Band of Brothers if you want.”

“Sounds lovely,” Chloe murmured. “I was hoping I could talk to you first, though.”

Scott glanced up from pouring her glass of wine. Her husband was gorgeous. From the first moment she had seen him – 8 years ago in the student union bar – Chloe had thought him to be gorgeous. With his wavy, light brown hair that was always just a little bit too long and curled gently over his shirt collar; his blue eyes, full of laughter and warmth; and that smile – the one that could still make Chloe’s stomach turn happy backflips at the sight of it, Scott could look at her and all her troubles could melt away. Except today. Not even that brow, gently furrowed in concentration with a stray lock of wavy hair falling over his right eye could quell her queasiness.

“Of course, darling. What’s up?”

Chloe took a deep breath and pushed her hair back from her face.

“God, I have no idea where to start...”

Frowning, Scott set aside the wine bottle as he rounded the coffee table to sit on the sofa beside her, reaching over to gently take her hand in his.

“Chloe, what’s wrong? What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

His blue eyes were full of concern; his hands, large and warm and comforting around hers. Chloe took a deep breath and tried to stop herself from trembling all over; failing miserably as she closed her eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

Beside her, Chloe felt Scott freeze; his hand tightening slightly around her own.

“Pregnant?” he repeated. “With pause?”

“With human.”

“Ah…”

Scott fell silent for a moment and Chloe didn’t dare look at him.

“When did you find out?”

“This morning,” she replied, quietly. “I felt sick this morning and when I looked in my diary, I found that I was two weeks late. I bought a test at lunchtime.”

Scott glanced at her.

“You can’t really tell from one…”

“I took two,” murmured Chloe. “When two pop up pregative, you start thinking you might have to accept facts.”

She felt Scott’s hand loosen its grip and slide away from hers as he stood up, pushing his hair back from his face as he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“I know it’s not something we really ever talked about,” Chloe said, quietly. “And I know it wasn’t planned...”

“It’s okay,” Scott interjected.

Slowly, Chloe raised her head to look at him.

“It is?” she asked; her voice sounding small and distant to her own ears.

Her husband gave her a small smile as he ran his hand through his hair again, smoothing it down with his fingers.

“Yeah,” replied Scott. “We’ll handle it. It’s us – of course we can handle it.”

Relief flooded over her in a tidal wave, so strong and sudden that she could have cried. Chloe smiled weakly as Scott walked back to her; taking her hands in his again as he knelt down at her feet.

“You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that,” she whispered. “I’ve been stewing all day and I had no idea how you would react to the news, but you telling me that…it’s like a weight has been lifted.”

Scott laughed gently as he rubbed her hand, his thumb moving over the smooth metal of her wedding band.

“What did you think? That I was going to be angry or something?”

Chloe bit her lip and shrugged, guiltily. It had been one of the scenarios that had gone through her head.

Laughing again, Scott leaned forward and enveloped her into a hug, rubbing her back softly and Chloe sank her head onto his shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent.

“We’ll sort this, darling,” he murmured. “We’ll sort it all out and get back to normal.”

It took Chloe a few seconds to register what he’d said.

“Sort it?” she repeated.

Scott nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll get you an appointment with the GP and get it dealt with. As soon as it’s over we’ll go book that holiday.”

The warm feeling of relief was gone as quickly as it had appeared and Chloe felt her former nausea start to rise again as she drew back and frowned.

“You mean, get rid of it.”

“Of course,” Scott clarified. “A baby, Chloe – it’s just not us. We’re not those people.”

Chloe stared at him with a mixture of shock and revulsion and Scott began to frown; confused.

“Why? What did you think I meant?”

“I…” Chloe stammered. “I don’t know! I thought that we’d talk about it; that we’d weigh our options and look at the pros and cons and the finances, and we’d give it a little more discussion before immediately jumping to termination!”

From the look on Scott’s face it was evident that he was just as horrified at this suggestion as she had been about the other.

“What for?” he asked, in disbelief. “You said it yourself, sweetheart – we didn’t plan this. We’ve never even talked about babies before!”

“Well, we’re talking about them now!”

“Yes, and I think this is the perfect time for me to say that I hate babies and I’ve never wanted one. I thought you had the same opinion…”

“You just never thought to ask!” Chloe exclaimed as Scott stood up and moved away from her. “You just jumped immediately to ‘let’s get rid of it’ without even asking me if that’s what I wanted!”

“So what do you want?”

Chloe paused, blinking at him. Honestly, she hadn’t quite got this far. She hadn’t thought that she’d have to make an imminent decision on the whole thing; that she’d have time to think and that Scott would talk it over with her like grown up couples in healthy, stable relationships did.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Scott threw up his hands with a short, mirthless laugh and turned away from her.

“We’re stable,” she replied, quietly. “We’re not struggling in any aspect of our lives, Scott. If we thought about; if we took a good look at our finances, we could probably do this.”

Scott stopped pacing and stared at Chloe in disbelief.

“I have _plans_!” he hissed. “There are still so many things I want to do with my life, Chloe; places I want to go. All the times where we just take off for the weekend to anywhere, just because we can? Do you think we’ll be able to do that with a kid in tow?”

“I understand that there’d be a lot of sacrifices…”

“Sacrifices,” scoffed Scott as he resumed his pacing. “Replacing Friday night dates to the movies or restaurants with milk bottles and soiled nappies? Two weeks in Goa replaced by Butlins? I don’t think so, Chloe.”

Falling silent, Chloe looked at her hands – at the chipped lilac nail polish on her fingernails that was in desperate need of a refresh - and tried not to cry.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Everything was completely wrong. Scott was her husband, her best friend and they were supposed to be in this together, making decisions together like partners. Chloe wondered what had happened to her sweet, supportive Scott; the guy who had been calm and patient through every major decision in their lives so far. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t want to have children that upset her at this point – it was the fact that he wouldn’t even entertain the notion that Chloe might. He was making her feel like the bad guy for just not knowing what she wanted to do.

Eventually, Scott sighed.

“Just, please tell me you didn’t do this on purpose.”

“What?” she asked; looking up sharply.

“Tell me you didn’t get pregnant on purpose; that you didn’t forget to take your birth control…”

“How could you even say that?” Chloe exclaimed in shock.

“Because I’m trying to understand, Chloe! I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were happy; that you liked your life the way it is and that it was enough for you. I thought _I_ was enough for you! I thought that this would be the easiest decision of our lives – _not_ to have a baby – and I don’t understand why you’re even thinking about this.”

“Maybe,” she replied in frustration, “I don’t think it would be completely horrible if we had a kid. No, it wasn’t something that we talked about and no, it wasn’t at all planned. It was a surprise, it was a shock, but you know…I don’t think it would be the worst thing to ever happen. We’re adults, we’re married and we own our home. We both have good, stable jobs and I think we could do this.”

Scott shook his head, slowly.

“I like my life just the way it is,” he murmured, “and I don’t want it to change. I’m not giving up my entire world to be tied to a snotty little brat for the rest of my life!”

“So my choice is baby or husband? Is that it?”

Chloe had spoken more out of frustration than anything else. She’d never in a million years believed that Scott would say,

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is.”

It was like he’d just thrown a bucket of ice water over her head. Chloe felt numb; her head reeling as she tried to gather her thoughts into anything that would make sense. It wasn’t like Scott to be blunt or cruel and it cut her to the core.

“It looks like we can’t compromise on this, Chloe,” Scott continued. “You want a kid and I don’t; and I won’t change my mind. If you won’t budge on it, then there’s only one option left.”

“Fine,” she said, tightly as she scooped up her cardigan and handbag from the side of the sofa. “You want me to go? I’ll go. I’ll be at my parents’ until you come to your senses and we can talk about this properly, like adults.”

Chloe fished her car keys from her bag, barely remembering to slip on her shoes as Scott stood and watched her. She tried not to wish that he’d stop her; that he’d grab her hand and pull her back; that he’d apologise for being an utter dick and gather her up in his arms. He never did, and Chloe walked out of the front door into the cool June evening; wiping away tears as the door slammed behind her and she headed for her old, red Golf GTI.

 

****

 

“Do you want me to go punch him?” Chloe’s brother asked as she blew her nose for the seventeenth time in two minutes. “I’ll probably break my hand, but I’ll do it for you.”

Chloe managed a weak smile.

“Thanks, Joel. You’re a good brother, but I don’t want you to waste your first broken knuckles on my husband.”

She’d driven around the streets for an hour before finding her way to her parents’ house; turning up on their doorstep with puffy eyes and mascara streaked down her face like a deranged member of Kiss. Gina and Mike Reay had immediately ushered their daughter in; wrapping her up in her favourite blanket and making tea in Chloe’s favourite mug before listening to the entire story; Chloe tightly hugging Buster, the enormous marmalade cat, who uttered a single disgruntled mew of protest before giving up on any kind of struggle.

“He’ll come around,” her stepdad said as he squeezed her shoulders, reassuringly. “I know it doesn’t excuse him from acting like a tit, but he’s likely just in shock. He’ll come around tomorrow and apologise.”

“If he doesn’t, then Joel can go around and punch him,” added Chloe’s mum.

Chloe laughed, but didn’t honestly feel more upbeat about the whole thing. For the entire night, she replayed it all over and over in her head. She’d been so sure Scott would be open to discussion about this; that he’d be the same old sweet, supportive Scott that Chloe was used to. Instead, she’d looked at her husband and found a man she didn’t even know; one who questioned her fidelity before then telling her to get rid of the baby or he’d leave her. As much as she wanted her husband with her for this, Chloe wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to forgive him for that.

She’d never needed her parents as much as she did over those next few days; lying on the sofa with her head in her mum’s lap, sniffling as her brother and stepdad brought her tissues and tea in a steady stream. Chloe waited for Scott to call. She refreshed her emails constantly and checked her text messages, but there was nothing.

“You don’t think he meant it, do you?” Chloe asked her mum as she prepared to go back home on Sunday evening.

“Of course not,” Gina Reay replied; kissing her daughter gently on both cheeks. “He’s probably been scared to make the first move, and now he’s sat at home just waiting for you to walk through the door.”

Chloe hugged her mother tightly, but her stomach was in knots as she got into her car. Scott hadn’t contacted her all weekend and they’d never gone this long without speaking before. They’d had fights, but they had only ever been mad with each other for a few hours before making up again. The closer Chloe got to home, the more worried she was that Scott wouldn’t be there.

Her fingers trembled as she dug her keys from her bag and unlocked her front door. She knew the moment she stepped inside – that feeling of emptiness; of a home that had been abandoned. Scott was gone.

She stood on the threshold and looked around. One bookshelf in the corner had been cleared entirely of all Scott’s vinyl records, and Chloe didn’t even have to search the house to know that the vintage gramophone she’d bought him at a flea market two years earlier was gone too. Chloe felt cold as she walked around the house; noticing gaps in the decor where Scott’s things had been cleared. She burst into tears when she walked into the bedroom; seeing the doors of Scott’s wardrobe wide open and the contents completely gone.

It was like he’d wiped all trace of himself from Chloe’s life in the space of two days. There was nothing of him left in their home except for the lingering scent of shampoo on his pillow. Chloe sat down heavily on the end of the bed and cried longer and harder than she ever remembered crying in her entire life.

Scott had left her, and Chloe was pregnant and alone.

 

****

 

By the time Monday rolled around, she was exhausted from lack of sleep; eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She barely managed to drag herself out of bed when the alarm went off early, hitting the snooze button so many times that she didn’t have time for a shower and stumbled into work with hair that hadn’t been washed since the previous Friday.

It was impossible to avoid Melinda, even though Chloe tried. She didn’t even get out of the locker room before her friend accosted her; bouncing up excitedly.

“Oh my God!” Melinda exclaimed; popping up behind Chloe. “I’ve been so excited to see you! How did it go?”

Chloe took a deep breath, closed her locker, and turned around. Melinda’s face fell.

“He left me, Mel,” she told her friend, quietly. “I told him and he left me.”

She honestly didn’t think she had any more water left in her to cry, but still Chloe felt the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes as Melinda stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chloe’s shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” her friend murmured as Chloe rested her head on Mel’s shoulder. “You’re Chloe and Scott. You two are an amazing couple; you’re _the_ couple. You’re supposed to be each other’s best friend; you’re the couple everybody wishes they were. How could this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe replied, miserably. “He just...told me that he didn’t want kids and if I did, then we couldn’t be together anymore.”

Melinda shook her head in disbelief.

“I can’t understand him,” muttered Melinda as she let go of Chloe and fished a packet of tissues from the pocket of her lab coat. “He loved you. He adored you!”

“Obviously not enough,” Chloe replied.

Gratefully, she accepted Melinda’s tissue and scraped the tears away. She honestly didn’t know how she hadn’t turned into a prune over the last few days with the amount she’d cried. Sighing, Melinda gave Chloe’s arms a sympathetic rub.

“Come on,” she said, gently. “Let’s wash your face and get rid of some of this puffiness. You’ll terrify the life out of the kids in Paeds, and I think they’re sick enough without having to look at somebody with a face like a swollen tomato.”

“Good point,” Chloe sniffed.

It took every effort to remain upbeat on during the morning; smiling and pretending everything was just fine even when all she wanted to do was curl up into the corner and sleep for the rest of the year. She was grateful when Melinda dragged her away after several hours, handing Chloe a pre-packaged ham sandwich and a bottle of water as they found a deserted corridor at the other end of the hospital and slumped on the floor; backs to the wall.

“What are you going to do?” Melinda asked.

“Well, I’m not getting rid of the baby,” Chloe muttered around a mouthful of sandwich. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d actually eaten something and her stomach screamed in protest at the invasion. “Scott told me it was him or the baby...and seeing as I didn’t immediately fall at his feet, he made the choice for me, so I guess I’m doing this on my own.”

Melinda’s brow furrowed.

“That’s a big step, Chloe.”

“Women do it every day,” Chloe replied, quietly.

Her friend rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, they do. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard. It’s hard even when you have somebody to share the burden with, but it’s harder to do it alone.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” asked Chloe.

Melinda shook her head.

“Of course not,” she replied. “But it’s only been a few days and your life has been turned upside down. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Chloe sighed as she put her sandwich back in the packet and rested her head back against the wall. The truth was, she didn’t have any clue what she was doing. She had experience with babies but only briefly, and there was always a point where Chloe had gone home, opened a bottle of wine, and put her feet up for the rest of the night. She’d never had to care for a baby full time before.

That aside, Chloe didn’t really know if she could carry on living in the house she’d shared with Scott for the past few years. There were gaps all over where he’d once been and was now long gone. Chloe still had his favourite ice cream in the freezer. Just walking through the house was painful and Chloe was sure she could never be happy there ever again.

“Maybe I need a change,” Chloe said, eventually.

Melinda’s eyebrow arched upwards,

“What kind of change?” asked Melinda around a mouthful of cheese savoury.

“I don’t know,” Chloe replied with a shrug. “Maybe I need to get away. Move house or move to a different city.”

“Hang on,” Melinda said; setting her sandwich aside with concern. “Moving city is a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

Chloe scraped a hand through her hastily tied hair and sighed again as she looked at Melinda.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But the way I see it, I’ve got a choice: either I stay here and wallow in self pity amongst the familiar, waking up in the same house knowing that he’s gone and not coming back; coming to the same job knowing I have to go home to an empty house that feels as though it’s missing him...or I look upon this as a time to change everything; like it’s an adventure.”

“An adventure?” repeated Melinda, doubtfully.

“New city; new job; new home; new baby,” Chloe continued. “Most of my old friends moved away years ago, but I stayed here...because I had Scott. I always wanted to try living elsewhere. Maybe this is my chance.”

Melinda blinked slowly at her for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh and picking up her sandwich again.

“I think you’ve gone mad,” she murmured.

Chloe closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall again; abandoning her sandwich on the floor.

“Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

The cool, drizzly June weather gave way almost overnight as it slipped into July and into the most stifling heat wave the country had seen in years. All across the country, windows and doors were thrown wide open in a vain attempt to catch the slightest wisp of a breeze and desk fans worked overtime to cool the population down; everybody from young to old, suffering from the extreme temperature change.

Tom sat on the windowsill in his underwear, munching on his third bowl of cereal that day while Winston, his two year old French bulldog lay on the floor by his feet and started up at him mournfully.

“I know, buddy,” he said sympathetically to the dog. “I promise we’ll go for a walk when it cools down – it’s just too hot for you right now.”

Winston’s black tail beat against the soft olive carpet a few times at the mention of a walk, but ultimately remained morose.

Heat had never really bothered Tom, but then he had grown up in Southern California with a sea breeze and an air conditioned home. Here in the UK, they saw many more cold days than warm, and air conditioning was a luxury saved for office blocks and department stores, meaning that his little flat was something more like a dry sauna and putting on the stove made him feel like he was living in the pits of Hell. Tom was already yearning for something more substantial than cereal or chicken salad.

A soft buzzing against the wooden windowsill alerted Tom to his phone ringing and he grinned as he saw his brother’s name flash up on the screen; setting his cereal bowl aside as he picked up the phone to answer.

“Hi, little brother!”

“Thomas!” Jake greeted him, cheerfully. “How are things?”

“Things are fine,” Tom replied. “Except that it’s hot as balls.”

At his feet, Winston’s ears pricked up at the familiar word.

“You really need to move to an air conditioned apartment,” his brother replied.

“I can’t afford an air conditioned apartment,” Tom said with a laugh. “Do you have any idea how rare those are here? And expensive?”

On the other end of the line, Jake scoffed.

“That’s what you get for moving to a third world country.”

“England is not a third world country, Jacob!”

“They don’t even have air conditioning!” his brother replied. “You’re sweating it out with the natives – I even bet you’re sitting around in your underwear, eating cereal again.”

Tom shrugged; trying not to grin.

“Well, it’s always breakfast time somewhere in the world.”

Jake heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I dunno what happened to you, man.”

This time, Tom couldn’t suppress his laughter. Jake loved to give him hell about moving away but they’d always been close. His brother was probably the only thing about home that he truly missed.

“So,” Tom continued, “how is everybody back home? How’s dad?”

“Oh, they’re all fine,” replied Jake; his voice, light. “Dad is good – he’s got some new medication that’s making him feel a little sick, but he’s okay. Powering through it as always.”

Tom sighed heavily as he leaned against the window and ran a hand through his sweat-prickled hair. His dad had been sick for years but as it slowly progressed, Tom had felt increasingly guilty about moving so far from home and leaving his younger brother to deal with it all by himself.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jake; as though he’d read Tom’s mind. “He’s fine, it’s just that he needs a couple of weeks for his body to adjust.”

Tom smiled wryly to himself.

“Sometimes I think you do this on purpose to make me feel bad.”

“Of course I do,” Jake said, cheerfully. “I’m your brother – that’s my job. I’m both insanely jealous of you and, at the same time, very proud.”

Tom laughed and shook his head.

“Did you just call to give me a hard time, or was there something you actually wanted because I really need to take Winston out soon.”

Jake snorted.

“You know, it kills me that you called a French bulldog ‘Winston’”.

“What was I supposed to call him?” Tom asked.

“I dunno,” replied Jake. “Pierre or Gaston? Not Winston – you call an English bulldog ‘Winston’”.

“I appreciate the irony,” said Tom; grinning.

As it turned out, the primary reason for Jake’s phone call was procrastination from mowing the lawn. After several more minutes of banter, Tom finally convinced his brother to face up to his weekend responsibilities and hung up the call; letting out a long breath. At his feet, Winston lifted his head and looked at him with mournful brown eyes.

“Okay,” Tom said; finally giving in and swinging his legs down off the windowsill to the floor. “We’ll walk now but I swear to God, Winston – if we get halfway around the block and you start whining about the heat, then you’re going to be in trouble!”

Winston gave a small yip of approval as he scrambled to his feet; black tail wagging fast as Tom padded across the living room in search of clothes. As hot as it was outside, he couldn’t walk his dog in just his underwear.

 

****

 

Driving across the country in a thirty year old Volkswagen Golf with no air conditioning made for a miserable time when you were eight weeks pregnant and suffering from morning sickness. Chloe felt like it was something akin to being cooked inside a rolling tin can, which was bad enough on the straight motorways but when it came to driving the winding streets looking for her new flat, she had to make a few stops at the side of the road.

By the time she reached the right place, Chloe was red in the face with her hair plastered to her head and clothes stuck to her body with sweat; her empty stomach roiling as she all but fell out of the car and half crawled to the door, summoning a last amount of energy to knock.

It took a moment, but soon Chloe heard footsteps hammering down the stairs and then the door swung open to reveal a dark haired woman wearing a bikini top and bright orange cotton shorts; her face a mixture of surprise, annoyance, and sympathy.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” she asked, incredulously as her hazel eyes took in Chloe’s dishevelled state.

“Pregnancy,” Chloe replied, “and several hours travelling inside a tin can with wheels. It’s good to see you too, Carla.”

It had been a strange and hectic few weeks. After Scott had taken all of his things and left without a word, the house had felt bare and empty. Chloe had known right from the start that she couldn’t keep living there alone and so had started the hunt for a new home.

The conversation she’d had with Melinda about moving away rolled around in her brain for days. The more Chloe thought about it, the more it didn’t seem like the worst idea she’d ever had. Chloe had lived her entire life in the same city – she’d grown up there, gone to school and university there, met her husband and worked every job all in the same place she’d been born into. Moving away had never really appealed to her the way it seemed to have appealed to all her old school friends. Everyone she’d grown up with had moved on to other cities and even other countries; living new adventures while she’d stayed the same.

It felt as though there was nothing really tying Chloe to home anymore; like she had one last shot at doing something different with her life before it was too late. The thought pushed her look further afield for places to live and to search for new jobs in other cities, finally finding both through her old university friend Carla.

The climb up the stairs was torture after the long drive and the upstairs flat was hot and stuffy despite having all the windows and doors open but it was spacious and clean, and best of all, Carla had brought over two large beanbags and ordered in an obscene amount of Chinese food.

Stomach muscles still hurting from hours of dry-heaving, Chloe barely remembered to wince as she flopped gratefully down onto a beanbag and dragged the nearest carton of special friend rice towards her.

“You’re an angel,” she mumbled around her first mouthful as Carla sat down more gracefully than Chloe had managed.

“Well, you took so long to get here and I got bored and hungry,” Carla replied as she delicately picked up a sweet and sour prawn with her chopsticks.

“Sorry,” Chloe muttered.

Knowing the drive would take her a while and probably leave her exhausted, Chloe had asked Carla to pick up the keys to the flat and open up before Chloe got there. Several pit stops along the way meant that Carla had been waiting longer than either of them anticipated.

“It’s okay,” sighed Carla. “You’re here now, and that means you can finally explain to me in detail what the hell happened to your life.”

Chloe made a face and stuffed one more chicken ball into her mouth before attempting to respond.

“I wish I knew,” she replied.

Snorting, Carla set aside her food and reached for a bottle of water.

“Scott turned out to be a prize wanker, it seems.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” murmured Chloe.

Carla scowled.

“You told him you were pregnant and he left you. You were married – he promised to love you forever and stick by your side no matter what, but he up and left instead. However you look at it, that’s a dick move.”

Chloe prodded absently at her food, suddenly feeling slightly sick all over again. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the second bottle of water on the floor.

“It’s not even the fact that he left me that hurts the most,” she tried to explain. “He didn’t want a baby and I understand that. It’s not a small decision to make – it’s life-changing and that change was too big for him. You can’t force somebody to care for a child they don’t want because that’s not fair on them or on the kid. I get that this was the one thing that would be the end of us, but…he just bolted. He didn’t even give us a chance to discuss it like adults, he just packed his stuff and left without a word to where he is or who he’s with or if he’s ever coming back…”

She trailed off as a lump formed uncomfortably in her throat, and she hastily unscrewed the cap off the bottle to take a sip of lukewarm water. It didn’t do much to ease her discomfort.

“Like I said,” Carla murmured with a shrug. “It was a dick move.”

Sighing heavily, Chloe pushed her food away and leaned back into the beanbag, allowing it to mould to her back and support her aching shoulders. She grimaced as she remembered that she still needed to unload her car of the many boxes and bags that were still piled haphazardly in the back seat.

“Anyway,” Chloe said with an air of finality. “It is what it is, and I’m here now so I might as well make the most of it.”

From the other beanbag, Carla smirked at her.

“You’re so full of crap,” she said, amused, “but I’m glad you are here. I missed your face.”

A slow smile spread across Chloe’s face as she looked at the friend she hadn’t seen in years.

“I missed your face too.”

 

****

 

Winston was like an entirely different dog after an hour in the early evening air. Tom had taken Winston to his favourite park; eating an ice cream while Winston chased ducks by the lake and searched for the perfect stick to carry around with him.

It had been pleasant to finally get out of the stuffy flat and into the cooler evening as the sun began to drop and the heat became far less oppressive; and Winston trotted happily at Tom’s heels with his stick as they walked back home.

The street was busy with kids on bikes racing each other from one end to the other; their friends cheering them on as they ate lollies and sat on garden walls. The smell of barbecue was everywhere, sending Winston into a minor frenzy and reminding Tom that he’d not had a decent meal in days. It was a summer evening like any other; pleasantly unremarkable until he was almost as his front door and Winston bolted towards an unfamiliar parked car.

It was a red Volkswagen Golf GTI - not a new one with a pretty, streamlined body, but the old boxy kind from the late eighties. Tom was honestly surprised that he managed to register as much in the couple of seconds it took for Winston to reach the open car door, because in the next instant the door closed and his dog collided with a woman.

“WINSTON!” Tom yelled, too late.

The woman yelled in surprise as the little black bulldog barrelled past her legs and sent her spinning; a large blue Ikea bag flying into the air and raining clothes down onto the warm pavement as Winston raced on down the street.

Faced with a split second decision to run after his dog or catch Winston’s victim, Tom instinctively reached out as the woman toppled forward into his arms.

It wasn’t nearly as graceful or as dignified as he’d imagined it would be: all the movies he’d ever watched had lied to him about catching damsels in distress.

“Crap!” he exclaimed as his knees buckled and he felt himself falling backwards.

He hit the ground heavily, landing on his back as the woman he’d attempted to save from the same fate landed next to him with an exclamation of pain.

“Ow…bugger…”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tom murmured.

The sky above him was crystal clear; blue with tints of pink, and his back throbbed where his shoulder blade had grazed the pavement. Very slowly, he turned his head to check on Winston’s victim.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she replied, glancing at him.

Her green eyes were still wide with shock; her freckled face, pale. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then, suddenly, the woman began to laugh. It was infectious and after a few seconds, Tom found himself laughing too as they both attempted to pull themselves upright.

“Oh god,” Tom gasped through his laughter. “I’m so sorry about that.”

The woman shook her head, grinning at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “I’ve had a hell of a day – I really needed a laugh.”

Tom grinned back as he scrambled to his feet and offered a hand to help her up.

“Oh wow,” he murmured, looking around him as she brushed herself off. “Your clothes are everywhere!”

“Lucky I didn’t have any underwear in that bag,” she replied.

They looked at each other and started to laugh again. He watched as she tucked an errant strand of hair back into the paisley scarf that was wrapped around her head; sighing as she looked around her and stooped to pick up a dress beside her bare feet.

“Here,” Tom said; immediately moving forward, “let me help.”

“Oh…you don’t have to…”

“No,” he insisted, “it was my dog that caused the damage – the least I can do is help you pick up your stuff.”

She gave Tom a tired smile as she reached for the blue Ikea bag and dropped the dress into it. She looked exhausted; her skin almost grey underneath the pink heat flush in her cheeks and dark circles under her green eyes. Tom felt a pang of sympathy as he lowered his gaze back to the clothes on the pavement.

“Are you moving in?” he asked.

The door to the flat next to his own was wide open; a few boxes sitting on the front step and he was sure he’d heard movement upstairs earlier in the day despite the flat having been empty for several weeks now.

“Uh…yeah,” she replied, absently. "It's been a bit of a hellish move - I've got clothes and books, but no furniture and I have no plates or cups or cutlery, or anything that's actually important..."

She trailed off and looked at him. shrugging. Tom dumped an armful of clothes into the bag and straightened up.

“Yep, I was exactly the same when I moved in," he said. "There's a home store about ten minutes from here though - it's got all of that stuff for pretty cheap."

The woman blinked at him, as though surprised at the suggestion. 

"Thanks, I'll look into that in the morning."

"No problem," he replied. "Anyway, it looks like I’m your neighbour - I’m Tom.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, giving her hands a quick dust off on her denim shorts before extending one to him. “I’m Chloe.”

“Chloe,” Tom repeated with a grin. “Good to meet you.”

“You too.”

He felt something heavy lean against his legs and he looked down to find Winston looking up at him; his brown eyes apologetic but his tail wagging away like it was all a ruse.”

“And this is Winston.”

Chloe’s freckled nose scrunched up as she grinned; leaning over and offering a hand for Winston to inspect.

“Winston? What an excellent name for a Frenchie,” she said, happily. “I love the irony.”

Those were the same words he’d said to his brother only a few hours earlier, and Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as Winston joyfully nudged at her hand with his nose and trotted over to lean against Chloe’s legs instead; tail wagging even harder and she patted his side firmly.

“Me too,” he murmured.

Chloe grinned at him and gave Winston one last pat before she started gathering up the bag again.

“Do you need any help getting your stuff inside?” Tom asked.

Chloe shook her head.

“Nah, it’s alright,” she replied. “My friend is upstairs – she’s giving me a hand.”

“Okay,” Tom said as rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you change your mind, I’m just next door and more than happy to help.”

Chloe hoisted the bag up with both hands and smiled.

“Thanks,” she replied.

Turning, Tom headed towards his own front door with Winston trotting at his heels. He gave Chloe one last smile as she disappeared through the door of the upstairs flat and fished his keys from the pocket of his shorts.

“Thanks for that, buddy,” he murmured to Winston as the dog raced past his legs and into the flat as Tom opened the door. “Great way to make an impression on the new neighbour.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I met my new neighbour,” Chloe told Melinda on the phone around mid-week.

The blazing sunshine of the weekend had disappeared behind clouds with the threat of an impending storm. If there was anything that Chloe hated more than blistering heat, it was oppressive heat - the world seemed to be closing in on itself, pressing down and making everything too heavy; too quiet.

Thanks to Tom from the flat downstairs, Chloe had managed to pick up some home essentials and now not only had things to eat from and drink out of, but also a new kettle, toaster, and bedding. Unfortunately, Chloe was still without an actual bed and any other kind of basic furniture besides the two beanbags left by Carla.

Oblivious to all of this, Melinda made an excited noise down the phone.

“Oooh, how exciting!,” she said. “What are they like?”

“Nice, I think,” Chloe replied. “He offered to help move my bags up the stairs and suggested a place where I could pick up bits for the house.”

“Very helpful. Is he cute?”

Chloe frowned as she pushed her damp hair back from her face.

“I didn’t really notice,” she replied. “Honestly, I was too busy getting knocked over by his dog.”

It wasn’t the way one usually met the neighbours, but Chloe had to admit it had been a great ice-breaker. Tom from next door seemed friendly and easy-going, and of course the adorable French bulldog was an added bonus for a decent neighbour.

“Shame,” Melinda mused. “So what are you getting up to today?”

Chloe sighed and leaned back into her beanbag.

“Oh, the usual,” she murmured. “Just…still unpacking and getting this new flat set up.”

In truth, most of her things were still sitting in bags and boxes in the same place they’d been left when she brought them in. Chloe was already coming up to week seven of her pregnancy, suffering from nausea and sickness at all times of the day and feeling more exhausted than she ever thought possible. If she wasn’t napping involuntarily in her beanbag then she was sprawled out on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, trying not to throw up.

With no refrigerator yet, Chloe was largely living off Rich Tea biscuits, baked beans from the tin, toast, and ginger tea to help ease the nausea. She had tried trawling through Gumtree to find second hand home furnishings but she was always stuck with how she could get them home and up the stairs by herself in the state she was in. Altogether, Chloe wasn’t having much luck.

“I wish I was there to help you,” replied Melinda. “Maybe you can get your new neighbour to help you unpack?”

The innocent tone of Melinda’s voice brought a smile to Chloe’s face.

“Stop it,” she said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to play matchmaker,” Chloe replied; amused.

“I would never,” Melinda replied, sweetly. “Besides, you’re not even sure if he’s cute or not…”

“I’m hanging up now, Mel.”

“Take a picture of him!” Melinda screeched before Chloe cut her off and ended the call.

It had barely been a month since Scott left and her best friend was already trying to pimp her out.  Chloe appreciated the sentiment, but finding a new man was honestly the last thing on her mind at that moment in time. There was more than enough to deal with between the exhaustion, sickness, and her bare flat. At least she had another week before she started her new job.

Sighing deeply, Chloe lifted her cup to her lips, only to find it void of ginger tea. Hauling herself out of the beanbag with a great amount of effort, she journeyed to the kitchen for more only to find the small yellow tea box sitting empty on the bench. Chloe could already feel her stomach beginning to roll and that tight feeling in her throat from just being upright. Her head swam as she took off through the flat in the direction of the bathroom; clutching the wall for support as she fought down the nausea and diving towards the toilet just in time.

Chloe vaguely wondered how she didn’t have a six-pack from all the work her abdominals had been doing lately; pain rippling through her sides, stomach, and back as she continued to heave fruitlessly. There was nothing on her stomach to come up.

It took her a while to get back to her feet, using the side of the bath to heave herself upright. She avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror as she splashed her heated face with cold water; patted it dry with a hand towel; and ventured to the open window of the living room. Chloe stuck her head out, looking down the street one way and then the other, finding it deserted. The clouds were still dark and heavy; the heat still oppressive but it wasn’t raining yet.

 If there was ever a time to go to the corner shop for more tea and biscuits, it was now.

Chloe didn’t bother changing out of her grey flannel shorts and threadbare t-shirt as the corner shop was only at the top of the street, but slipped her orange jellies on and grabbed a five pound note from her purse. The young gentleman behind the corner shop counter gave her dishevelled state a disapproving glare, but mercifully sold her another little yellow box of ginger tea and two packets of Rich Tea, depositing them into a flimsy white plastic bag and giving her a meagre amount of change from her fiver.

It was only as she reached the front door that Chloe realised, with a sickening plummeting stomach, that she had forgotten her key.

“No...” she groaned, rattling the door handle, but the Yale lock stayed firm.

It was then that the storm clouds finally broke; warm rain falling from the sky in a torrent and soaking Chloe to the skin within seconds.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” Chloe screamed at the black storm clouds above her head before aiming a savage kick at the door.

Once she had started she couldn’t stop, kicking the door repeatedly and hammering at it with her closed fists, even punching it. Chloe yelped at the sharp pain that shot through her knuckles and into her wrist. Grasping it tightly she sank to her knees, exhausted, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she started to cry. Her sobs became hysterical, making her gasp for breath as she curled into a ball under the heavy rain, tightly clutching her stomach and sides as her muscles wrenched painfully. The bag of tea lay abandoned in a steadily-growing puddle.

 

****

“So…I have a new neighbour.”

“Oh, great,” Jake replied dryly. “I really hope they’re not as bad as the last one.”

Tom grinned as Winston ran towards him with a sizable stick between his jaws, tail wagging happily as Tom tried to take it from him.

“Hopefully not,” he said, “but at the moment I think I’m the one who seems more like the nightmare neighbour.”

“Oh?”

“Winston knocked her over on the street on Saturday,” Tom explained.

Finally, he wrested the stick from Winston and threw it as he explained how his dog had come to mow down his new neighbour in front of her car. Jake laughed at him.

“That has to be the worst way to introduce yourself.”

“Tell me about it,” Tom replied.

The upstairs flat had been pretty quiet since Chloe had moved in, almost like she wasn’t there at all. He had expected the usual sounds of moving in – furniture being bumped up the stairs and across the floors…until he’d remembered her saying she had no furniture. A couple of times, Tom had wondered if he should knock and check on her, but he’d always thought better of it. There was nothing worse than a nosy, interfering neighbour and he would have hated to turn into one of those.

“Is she pretty?”

“What?” asked Tom as Winston came trotting back with his stick.

“Your new neighbour,” Jake clarified. “Is she pretty?”

Tom frowned, remembering Chloe’s dark-rimmed eyes and paleness.

“Pretty tired,” he murmured. “Anyway, what does it matter to you?”

“Just wondering,” Jake mused. “How long has it been since you had a girlfriend?”

“Jake…”

“I’m just asking!” replied Jake, innocently. “The last time you broke up with somebody, you got a puppy and you haven’t dated since. Your dog is essentially your girlfriend. It’s a little pathetic.”

Tom laughed and threw Winston’s stick again.

“You make me sound like some kind of tragic spinster.”

“Mother is concerned,” Jake murmured. “She’s desperate for grandbabies.”

“Well, tell her she’s going to have to wait,” laughed Tom. “I’m only thirty.”

Above his head, Tom heard a low rumble of thunder and sighed. It had been threatening to rain ever since he’d got up that morning and, after much deliberation, he’d decided to chance taking Winston out to the park before the storm started. They’d managed to get a good hour in, but as another grumble of thunder rolled through the black heavy clouds, Tom thought it best to head back home.

Bidding his brother farewell, he whistled for Winston and started the trek back to his flat, hoping the storm would hold off till they reached the front door. They had just passed the bus stop at the top of the main road when the clouds burst and Tom groaned as he broke into a run with Winston racing along at his heels, around corners with overflowing drains and down streets that had turned into rivers within seconds. Tom’s t-shirt was soaked through to his skin and rainwater ran into his eyes, dripping off the ends of his hair. He sighed with relief as he reached the top of his street.

Winston spotted her before Tom did - a small mound in t-shirt and shorts, orange jelly shoes like a neon beacon in the greyness, curled up into the foetal position in front of the door to her flat and looking for all the world like a drowned rat. The bulldog nuzzled at her soaked head and she looked up in shock.

“Chloe?” Tom said, surprised to find his new neighbour half drowned on the doorstep. “What happened?”

She looked at him miserably; her green eyes, dull and hair plastered to her head.

“I got locked out,” she mumbled.

Chloe looked so utterly exhausted and soaked to the bone and, without really thinking about it, Tom leaned over and gently hauled her to her feet for the second time that week.

“Come on,” he said as he fished his keys from the pocket of his wet shorts. “Let’s get you inside and dried off.”

 

****

 

A small puddle was starting to grow on the laminate floor under Chloe’s feet as she stood in the hallway of Tom’s flat, a small wet bulldog leaning heavily against her legs while Tom ran into the bathroom for towels. She sniffed miserably, rubbing her damp arms where goose bumps were starting to form despite the warmth, and chanced a look in the hallway mirror. She instantly wished she hadn’t. Her eyes were swollen, her pallid skin blotched red, and her entire face covered in a mixture of tears, rainwater and snot.

 _Very attractive_ , she thought.

Tom mercifully appeared seconds later with a handful of towels.

“Here,” he said, gently as he passed her a large tropical-print beach towel.

Chloe immediately wiped her face with the corner as she took it from him, getting rid of the snotty evidence before Tom could get a good look. Mercifully, he was preoccupied with trying to towel off a wiggling Winston as Chloe wrapped her own towel around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“Not a problem,” Tom replied, his brows still knitted together with concern. “Why don’t you come in properly and I’ll find you some dry clothes.”

Chloe bit her lip and pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders. She’d always hated being a bother, even as a kid.

“Oh...I’m...it’s fine,” she protested.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Chloe, you’re soaked to the bone. You can’t stay like that - you’ll catch a cold.”

She hesitated for a moment, really not wanting to be any more trouble to her new neighbour than she already had been, but as an icy rivulet of water dripped from the end of her hair and slithered the full length of her back, Chloe accepted the fact that she was locked out of her own flat and would be here for a while, whether either of them wanted it or not. She might as well be dry.

“Come on,” Tom said, giving up on Winston for the time being and ushering Chloe into the living room.

The layout of the downstairs flat seemed very much like the upstairs one that she occupied, except that Tom’s flat was definitely more like a home. It had a soft grey-blue carpet underfoot and two big, squashy navy couches; full bookcases lined the far walls and interesting canvas prints dotted between them. It seemed comfy and cosy, and a far cry from Chloe’s naked flat.

The kitchen was open plan, just like her flat; the breakfast bar looking out into the living room and behind it, a stack of cereal bowls built up in the sink. Still dripping wet, she watched Tom’s head disappear and he rummaged through the tumble drier and unearthed a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“I hope these are okay,” he said; holding them out for her. “They’re clean, I promise.”

Chloe felt a ghost of a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she took the clothes.

“Is the bathroom down the hall?” she asked.

Tom grinned at her.

“Yeah – same as yours, I’m guessing?”

Chloe nodded and backed out of the living room, heading to the end of the hallway and into the small bathroom, locking the door behind her. Peeling off her wet shorts and shirt, she dropped them into the bath and proceeded to towel-dry her skin before pulling on the clean, borrowed clothing.

The sweatpants were too long and trailed over her feet; the waistband slightly too tight. In comparison, the t-shirt swamped her and covered the stomach roll caused by the tight sweatpants. Chloe glanced in the mirror again and winced: her hair was plastered to her head and the ends hung clumped together in rat tails. Running the cold tap, Chloe splashed large handfuls of water onto her face in an attempt to ease the blotchiness and swelling that her crying had caused, but it was no use – she was a mess and would remain that way for some time.

Tom was back in the kitchen when she emerged with her wet clothes in her hands; getting two cups from the draining board with one hand as he towel-dried his hair with the other. He’d changed out of his own wet things in the time Chloe had been in the bathroom, and even Winston was much less soggy than before as he shuffled up to greet her; tail wagging, happily.

“Any better?” Tom asked; glancing at her over his shoulder.

“Drier,” Chloe admitted, “but I don’t know what to do with these.”

She gently waved the sodden bundle of clothes in her hand

“Sit down and I’ll put them in the dryer with mine,” Tom said to her, stepping forward to take them from her.

Chloe managed a weak smile.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

“That would be amazing,” she replied. “Actually, I’ve got some ginger tea in the...”

“Plastic bag,” Tom finished for her as he turned on the tumble dryer. “I grabbed it off the front step for you. The box is a little damp but I think the bag protected it pretty well. Your biscuits are completely fine though.”

“Thank god,” Chloe murmured. “Soggy biscuits would have just been the cherry on top of a really bad day.”

He grinned at her as she sat down and watched him drop a ginger tea bag into one cup, and a chamomile into the other before filling them with boiling water.  Putting the edge of the Rich Tea packet between his teeth, Tom picked up the two steaming mugs and carried everything over to the couch. She smiled as she relieved him of the packet of biscuits, suddenly feeling a little less miserable as she ripped it open and delicately began to nibble at one of the pale rounds.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked as he passed Chloe her cup of ginger tea and sat down next to her.

Chloe didn’t know what it was about a hot cup of tea that was so comforting. She wrapped her fingers around the fat blue mug and breathed in the spicy ginger steam; curling it up against her chest and feeling the heat soak through the soft cotton of her borrowed t-shirt and into her skin. Sighing gently, Chloe took another nibble of her biscuit.

“Yes,” she replied, uncertainly.

She glanced up to a pair of concerned brown eyes studying her face. Tom’s hair was sticking up in small, black tufts that were almost comical but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh.

“Are you sure?”

Chloe looked down into her steaming mug of tea.

“Yes…no…”

Chloe looked at him again. Concern was still etched onto his face.

“I don’t know,” she murmured; truthfully.

Tom shifted on the couch, turning towards her as he balanced his mug of tea on the back of the couch cushion.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Chloe sighed and Tom immediately looked guilty.

“Or not,” he continued, hurriedly. “There’s nothing worse than a perfect stranger prying into your life. I need to learn to mind my own business sometimes.”

A smile tugged at Chloe’s mouth again.

“No, it’s okay,” she murmured, tucking her feet up to her bottom and nestling her mug between her chest and her knees. “It’s just…I don’t even have any idea where to start. Everything just seems to be going wrong lately…like I can’t catch a break, you know?”

“Like getting locked out?” Tom asked.

“Amongst other things,” she replied.

Tom watched her quietly, his face giving away nothing as he waited for her to carry on.

Chloe wasn’t usually the type of person to confide in people she barely knew. All through her life, she’d only ever kept a handful of close friends and even then it had usually taken a while for her to share personal information about herself. Chloe played things very close to her chest and yet, as she sat on Tom’s couch in borrowed clothes, as far away from everyone she usually would talk to about her troubles, Chloe was struck by how much she really needed a friend.

She had only known Tom for five minutes but there was something open and honest and warm about him. Drawing a deep breath, Chloe took a chance.

“My life turned absolutely crazy a month ago,” she began. “I split up with my husband and he disappeared off the face of the planet. I left my job; I rented out my house, and I moved down here because an old college friend found me the upstairs flat and a job where she works. I was in such a rush to get away from home that I didn’t even check if the flat was furnished, so I’ve been sitting on beanbags, living off toast, and sleeping on the floor.”

“Yikes,” murmured Tom, wincing. “That’s rough.”

“No shit,” Chloe muttered, staring back into her mug. “Have you ever had the feeling you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life?”

“Yes.”

Chloe glanced sharply at him.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Tom replied; his face serious. “I was in the same situation as you when I moved here five years ago. I accepted the best job opportunity of my life – great money; I get to travel all over…but I had to move halfway across the world to take it. I signed the lease on my flat without even seeing it and I had to start my whole life again from scratch – I had nothing and I knew nobody, and not a day went by where I didn’t think I was crazy for doing this.”

Chloe blinked at him. Somehow she’d managed to overlook the fact that her new neighbour was also alien to these parts. At least she knew Carla, and she’d been lucky enough to move in next to a person who was good enough to pick her up out of the rain and give her dry clothes and tea. She couldn’t imagine she would ever have just moved here without any idea of what to expect.

“If you could go back,” Chloe murmured, “If you could do it all over again…”

“I wouldn’t do anything different,” he said, quietly. “Even if I’d got here and decided I couldn’t do it, I would still have taken the chance…even if it meant going back home with my tail between my legs and admitting to my mother that she was right.”

“Your mum didn’t want you to move here?”

“I think she was just…scared that I’d hate it and be stuck here. It was different for her and my dad, I guess – they were married when they moved to Pasadena, so they already had each other. It’s all a little scarier when you’re on your own.”

“Yeah,” Chloe mused, “it is.”

With an encouraging smile, Tom reached over with his free hand and gave Chloe’s shoulder a brief, light nudge.

“You can do this. You already had the guts to come this far, and you’re not on your own – I’m right here if you ever need me.”

“Thanks,” Chloe replied with a rueful grin. “I don’t suppose you know any way I can get back into my flat without a key?”

Tom beamed at her as he reached over to retrieve his phone from the coffee table.

“I know exactly how to help with that,” he said, brightly. “We need Margaret.”

 

****

 

Margaret was the friendly neighbourhood matriarch. She was a glamorous woman; impeccably styled at all times of the day, whatever the weather or the season; her grey hair, neatly coiffed. She knew everybody and everything that went on in the local area and everyone knew Margaret.

Tom didn’t think he would have settled in as easy as he did if it hadn’t been for Margaret and her extensive network of people. She was the chief organiser of all the social community events; of charity drives and fundraisers. Almost everyone in the neighbourhood had reached out to Margaret at some time or another for help or assistance and she had always come through for them. Because of this, nobody ever turned her down when she asked for something.

The rain had thankfully stopped by the time Margaret turned up on his doorstep with a locksmith in tow, already set to work opening the upstairs flat door.

“Darling boy,” she boomed theatrically as Tom emerged from his home, Winston diving between his legs and making a beeline for Margaret. “I feel like it’s been an age! How are you?”

Tom grinned at her as she dragged him in by the hand and fondly pinched his cheek like Tom was a small child and not a fully grown man. It had been a lot to get used to at first, but Tom had quickly learned that everybody in the community received the same treatment regardless of age.

“Oh, y’know,” he replied, lightly, “I’m getting by.”

“Of course you are,” Margaret said; stooping over to rub an excited Winston’s ears. “And this young man is just as lively as ever!”

“I think he missed you.”

Margaret chuckled and gave Winston’s side a good, hefty pat before straightening up and fixing her gaze over Tom’s shoulder to where Chloe stood in her orange jelly shoes and Tom’s clothes, looking overwhelmed.

“Now,” Margaret said; giving Chloe’s dishevelled form a once over with her sharp eyes. “Who do we have here?”

Chloe’s green eyes darted from Margaret to Tom, and back again; unsure.

He felt a pang of sympathy for Chloe as she stood on the front doorstep, seemingly overwhelmed by Margaret’s forwardness. She just looked so exhausted and fed up, and Tom knew all too well how dramatic Margaret could be. After five years, Tom had learned how to deal with it, but to poor Chloe it must have been quite unexpected.

“This is Chloe,” Tom said; stepping in on her behalf. “She moved in on Saturday.”

Margaret made a noise of comprehension as she moved forward and grasped Chloe’s hands, firmly.

“Let’s have a look at you, dear,” Margaret murmured.

Chloe shot him a concerned look and Tom responded with an encouraging smile and a nod. The poor woman looked almost terrified of Margaret, even if it obviously came from a good place. She shifted uncomfortably as Margaret looked her over.

“You look tired, dear girl,” Margaret said, gently.

“Yeah,” replied Chloe, haltingly. “I…don’t have a bed yet, so I’ve been sleeping on the floor…”

Margaret looked scandalised.

“Oh, no,” she said, firmly, “We can’t have that. We need to sort that out as soon as possible.”

Tom smiled as Chloe opened her mouth to protest and cut into the conversation.

“Chloe is sort of in the same position I was when I first moved here,” Tom explained.

Chloe stared at him in horror as Margaret’s look of shock increased. She obviously remembered all too well the day that Tom turned up at his new flat with only a suitcase full of clothes and no idea where to get anything from furniture to food. Margaret had been a hero – sourcing inexpensive furnishings and pointing him in the direction of the supermarket and home bargain stores for the essentials. She’d helped him get on his feet and he knew she could do the same for Chloe.

“Oh, no my dear,” Margaret boomed with determination. “The moment we get this door open, we’re going to take a look around and make a little list of things you need. We’ll get your flat all ship-shape in no time.”

“I don’t want to put anybody out…” Chloe began.

“I insist!”

As Margaret turned back to the locksmith, Chloe glanced miserably at Tom.

“I always feel like I’m being a burden,” she said.

Tom looked at her and smiled.

“You’re not,” he replied.

Chloe blinked at him a couple of times before a smile spread slowly across her face; scrunching up the freckles across her pale nose and making her green eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Behind him, there was a loud metallic clang as the door lock hit the ground and a small cheer from the locksmith as Chloe’s front door swung open. Chloe could finally get into her flat.

 

****

 

Chloe trailed after Margaret from room to room as the woman made notes on her phone. If this had been any other time in her life, Chloe might have been annoyed at the bossy older woman bustling about her home. As it happened she was just too exhausted and deflated to argue. Chloe knew she needed help getting on her feet and God only knew there were few enough decent people in the world for her to turn down Margaret’s assistance.

Her flat seemed even more empty and pathetic now that she’d been in Tom’s: all bare walls and unpacked boxes in comparison to his cosy, furnished home. She avoided catching his eye as they moved around the flat.

“Oh my dear girl,” Margaret exclaimed in sympathy. “You don’t even have a refrigerator!”

Chloe shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m not really in a rush for one of those,” she replied.

“Why not?” asked Margaret with narrowed eyes. “How are you going to store food without a refrigerator?”

Chloe bit her lip and ran a hand nervously through her tangled hair.

“I’m not really managing to eat much at the minute,” she mumbled. “I’ve been feeling pretty sick recently and the only things I’ve really been able to keep down are plain biscuits and ginger tea. I just thought that I’d get other bits of furniture in first before I looked for a fridge.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed further as she turned and stalked towards Chloe, taking in her pallid skin and dark eye circles.

“You’re pregnant,” Margaret finally announced.

Behind her, Chloe heard Tom trip over a box and she flinched; resisting the urge not to look over her shoulder. She hadn’t mentioned that part of her story earlier. In all truth, she was still trying to come to terms with it all and sometimes it was easier not to think about it. Her situation was more than enough for people to digest without adding a pregnancy, yet Margaret had figured her out within seconds; putting all the puzzle pieces together like a detective.

“Yes,” she admitted; her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Margaret sighed heavily and reached out to give Chloe’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Well…this definitely won’t stand,” she murmured. “I’ll have a bed here for you by tonight. We can’t have you sleeping on the floor a minute longer.”

Chloe stared at her in surprise; mouth falling open as Margaret nodded decisively and slotted her phone back into her purse.

“You just make me a list of the style of furniture you’re after and I’ll find some boys to go get if for you. We’ll have this flat decked out like a proper home in no time.”

Margaret patted her cheek gently and breezed out of the living room, leaving Chloe dumbstruck and staring at Tom. He gave her a rueful smile as he deposited the last book back into the box he’d knocked over and straightened up, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

“So…” he said, quietly. “That was Margaret.”

“Yeah,” Chloe murmured, “She’s…uhm…”

“Unique.”

Chloe felt herself laugh; shoulders suddenly relaxing as all the tension she’d been holding over the last hour ebbed from her body. Tom’s grin spread.

“Yes,” she agreed. “She’s definitely unique.”

They looked at each other for a moment as Chloe struggled to contain her giggles. It felt as though she hadn’t laughed in over a month; the feeling, almost alien to her. It was good to be anything but sick and exhausted, even for only five minutes.

“I’m sorry if I pushed Margaret on you,” Tom said, finally; shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I didn’t think to ask you first and it was rude…”

“No,” Chloe interrupted him, “It’s honestly fine. I’ve been putting off getting things sorted because I’ve just felt like hammered crap. I’m glad somebody’s taking charge – I probably would have continued sleeping on the floor for the next six months.”

Tom smiled, gently.

“Well, we couldn’t have that,” he murmured.

A sharp yip from the bottom of Chloe’s stairs drew their attention to an impatient Winston, and Tom gave her an apologetic shrug.

“I should get going,” he said, and Chloe nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay,” she replied. “Thanks for today – I probably would still have been sitting in a puddle on the doorstep if you hadn’t have helped me.”

“Any time,” Tom said; chuckling. “I’m always happy to pick my neighbours up out of a puddle. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Chloe found herself laughing again and as Tom retrieved Winston and made his way down the stairs, she realised that she felt suddenly lighter; more at ease. Perhaps all she’d needed was a bit of help after all.


End file.
